


So Fucking Much

by PrettiestStar17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Breakup, F/M, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Fremione - Freeform, HEA, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Prince music, Quarantine, Smut, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25449190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettiestStar17/pseuds/PrettiestStar17
Summary: Due to Britain's magical community being thrown into a sudden lockdown, Hermione finds herself indefinitely quarantined with her ex-boyfriend and two small children.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 21
Kudos: 210
Collections: Fremione Fanatics' Summer Fic Fest!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fremione Summer Fic Fest, using the Quarantine prompt.
> 
> Special thanks to MrsRen and NorahClark for being awesome and supportive betas, and to my husband for being, well, my everything, but specifically my alpha and resident Prince enthusiast for this story. 
> 
> Also, a thank you to the amazing musician that is Prince for the gift of his timeless songs that were a big inspiration and motivator in writing this story.

The first thing Hermione Granger did when she got home was kick the pumps off her feet and replace her blouse and skirt with grey terry cloth shorts and an old Stone Roses t-shirt. She was halfway through devouring cold chow mein over the sink when Ginny Potter’s head appeared in her fireplace.

“Hermione?”

“Right here,” Hermione called, stabbing her chopsticks into the noodles and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She padded into the living room and knelt in front of the floo. “What’s up?”

“Harry is held up at Hogwarts, grading midterms, and I’m stuck at the stadium for at least another hour. Can you go pick up the boys?” Ginny asked

“Of course. I’d love to have them for a few hours. Are they with your parents?” Ginny grimaced and shook her head, making Hermione let out a groan. “Really?”

“They wanted to spend the day at the shop! I thought one of us would be home by now and Fred has plans to go out. Please, Hermione,” Ginny begged. “You’ll barely have to say anything to him. Just grab the boys and leave.”

“Fine,” Hermione sighed. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks! Love you, bye!” she called and disappeared. 

Hermione put her Chinese leftovers back in the fridge and slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops. As if the day hadn’t been long enough, now she had to end it with a trip to her ex’s. With one last defeated sigh, Hermione spun and apparated to the doorstep of Fred Weasley’s flat. She knocked and waited. When the door didn’t open after a minute, Hermione knocked again.

“Must really be in a hurry to go out,” she muttered, rubbing her hands over her arms, trying to fend off the bite of the cold wind.

The door swung open, bathing Hermione in light from the foyer. Fred stood there with irritation written all over his face. Saying nothing, he turned and walked into his sitting room, leaving the door hanging open.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his back as she stepped in and shut the door. “Are the boys ready?”

“Almost. Al is having his evening constitutional.”

“I poo!” a little voice shouted from the bathroom.

Fred shook his head and went to the bathroom to assist with the cleanup. Hermione found James on the couch, putting on his trainers. She sat down to help him with the laces, but the five-year-old pulled his foot away and said, “No! I can do it!”

Hermione threw up her hands and moved back. “Of course! I didn’t know you learned how to tie laces.”

“Daddy teached me.”

She looked on as James carefully made two big loops and then tied them together. When he did the same with the other shoe, Hermione clapped and said, “Good job, James! That’s great!” James looked up at her, a beaming smile on his face, and Hermione couldn’t help but drop a kiss on top of his messy, black hair.

“All done!” Albus announced, bounding up to Hermione. He shoved his hands in her face and said, “I wash. Smell!”

Hermione took a hesitant sniff and nodded. “They smell squeaky clean. You boys ready?” 

“Ready!” James and Albus cried, grabbing their little backpacks and running for the door.

“Oi! Nobody leaves until I get hugs!” Fred called, striding after them. 

When Hermione reached the door, Fred had Albus under one arm and James under the other, both boys shrieking with joy. He planted kisses on their heads with an exaggerated smack before putting them down with the instructions of, “Be good for Aunt Hermione.”

“We will!” James said, grabbing the doorknob and pulling on it. “Ahhh, uh!” He let go and stumbled back.

Hermione lifted Albus onto her hip, happy that she was able to get in and out with only a brief, civil exchange of words. She tried to turn the doorknob but it wouldn’t budge. “What the…?” She tried again, to no avail. “Fred, what did you do?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything,” Fred replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Hermione rattled the doorknob and then tapped it, saying, “This. It won’t open. If this is one of your pranks, it’s not funny. Unlock the door.”

“I didn’t lock it,” He said, reaching out to open the door and meeting the same invisible lock as Hermione. “Move,” he groused, brandishing his wand. Hermione stepped back and Fred sent an unlocking spell at the door. 

Hermione gave it another try. “Nope.”

“What the bloody hell is going on?”

Hermione bit back her comment on language and watched as he sent every spell, short of a Reducto, at his front door. He finally let his wand drop and said, “Just use the floo.”

With an annoyed huff, Hermione spun around and made her way back to the living room. When she tossed the powder into the fireplace, it hit an invisible wall and flew back into James’ face, sending him into a coughing fit.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Fred yelled, stalking over to them.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Hermione yelled back, grabbing a blanket from the sofa and wiping James’ now crying face. “I’m sorry buddy, that wasn’t supposed to happen.” She put Albus down and scooped James into her arms. “Would you fix that so I can get out of here?” 

As Hermione wiped down James’ face with a cool cloth, she had to work to ignore the scent of Fred’s shampoo and aftershave lingering in the air. She hated admitting that the smell still made her weak in the knees and that she wanted to inhale so deeply that it permanently coated her olfactory sensors.

“Why did the powder do that?” James whimpered, wiping his nose on the back of his little hand.

“I don’t know. Let’s go see if Uncle Freddy figured it out.” Hermione scooped him back up and carried him back to the living room. Albus was doing somersaults at Fred’s feet as he stood reading a long sheet of parchment. “What’s going on?”

Fred held up a finger as his eyes continued to track across the letter, bemusement clouding his face. When he finally looked up, he took a deep breath before saying, “We’re locked down.”

“Locked down? What does that mean?” Hermione held out her hand for the letter.

“Locked down, Hermione. Quarantined. We’re stuck here. No one can get in. No one can get out.” He passed the parchment to her.

Hermione sat down and James snuggled under her arm, attempting to read the note along with her. The further down she read the lower her stomach dropped. When she reached the end, she was dangerously close to vomiting.

“What’s a virus?” James asked.

“Something that makes people very sick,” Hermione whispered. When did he learn to read so well?

“James, take Al to my room and you guys can watch telly,” Fred said, clapping his hands and plastering on a smile.

“Really? Mummy doesn’t let us watch telly at bedtime,” James said skeptically as if worried his uncle was leading him into a trap.

“She won’t mind just this one time. Go on now.”

The boys ran into Fred’s bedroom and slammed the door. A minute later the theme tune for Postman Pat started up.

Hermione held up the letter and asked, “How the hell do you weaponize Spattergroit?”

“Not just Spattergroit. Cerebrumous Spattergroit,” Fred corrected. “It’s an infectious disease. Any infectious disease can be weaponized, oh brightest-witch-of-our-age.”

Hermione growled at the dig but then let out a defeated sigh of, “Fuck,” as she dropped back against the sofa and closed her eyes.

That afternoon, an unknown person/s had unleashed a virulent strain of Cerebrumous Spattergroit in the middle of Diagon Alley. The virus subset carries all the effects of regular Spattergroit, with severe confusion and memory loss thrown in. Because the Ministry had no idea who had come in contact with the virus, and subsequently who those people had had contact with, the entire wizarding community of Britain was placed on magical lockdown. Until the Ministry and healers had the virus under control and the ones responsible for the outbreak in custody, witches and wizard’s travel was restricted solely to St. Mungo’s.

“Right,” Hermione said, tossing the letter aside and jumping to her feet. “I’m going to go--”

“Where? Where are you going to go, Hermione?” Fred asked, his voice full of exasperation. “The only place the floo is going to let you go is St. Mungo’s.”

“Then I’ll go there,” she said, stepping forward, but Fred stepped in front of the floo to block her departure.

“And what are you going to do there?” When Hermione didn’t answer he continued, “Exactly. There’s nothing you can do about this. I’m not happy about the situation either, but it is what it is.” Fred ran a hand through his hair and let out an irritated groan. “I’m going to go change and let the boys know what’s going on.”

“What do you mean, let the boys know? There’s no use scaring them over something they’re not going to understand.”

“For Merlin’s sake, give me some credit, Granger! I’m not going to scare them. But they’re gonna start asking questions about why Harry and Ginny aren’t coming to take them home. They need to know that even though we don’t know how long this will last, they’re safe and it won’t go on forever. Is there anything you would like to add to that?”

Hermione shook her head and without another word, Fred turned and stalked into his bedroom, shutting the door and leaving her on her own. Looking around for a place to escape, Hermione hurried to the only other room she could- the bathroom. Closing the lid, she sat down on the toilet, wound toilet paper around her hand, and dabbed at the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

She and Fred hadn’t parted on the greatest of terms. His decision to break up, after a year of dating, had come as a complete shock to her. He never gave a concrete reason for the breakup, leaving Hermione to go back and analyze everything she had ever done during their relationship that could have driven him away. She was a near neurotic mess by the time she accepted that she would probably never know.

A knock on the door stopped her mid-sniffle. She wiped her nose and tried her best to sound nonchalant as she said, “Yes?”

“The boys are tucked into my bed. Would you like to sleep in there with them tonight?” Fred asked.

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“I’ll set a pillow and blanket out.”

She listened as his footsteps moved away and let out a shaky sigh. Only when she heard the click of his bedroom door did she get up and start getting ready for bed. Digging around in his medicine cabinet, she found an extra toothbrush to stake claim to and performed a duplicating spell so James and Albus would each have one the following day. Even though the smell twisted her heart to an almost paralyzing state, she used Fred’s soap to wash her face before leaving the bathroom.

Hermione fluffed up the pillow and pulled the blanket tightly around her. She really hoped this quarantine wouldn’t last too long. If she spent too long in this flat, she’d end up completely consumed by heart-wrenching memories.

  
  
_“Do you really want a new sofa or was this just an excuse to come here?” Hermione sighed, looking from the map in her hand to the arrows on the floor._

_“Your parents made it sound so fun. I mean, you can get anything you want in one store!” Fred whispered excitedly, studying his own map. “We need an IKEA for wizards.”_

_Hermione shook her head and grabbed his hand. “Come on. I’m pretty sure sofas and armchairs are this way,” she said, guiding him to the left pathway. “Don’t wander off. You might get snatched by the Goblin King and then I’ll never find you.”_

_“They let Goblins work with Muggles?” Fred hissed._

_Once they finally reached the section with the sofas, Fred was like a kid in Honeydukes. He threw himself onto every piece of furniture to “test” it’s durability. If Hermione would try to pretend she didn’t know him and walk away, Fred would grab her around the waist and pull her down on top of him._

_“Fred, stop!” Hermione giggled, making futile attempts to escape his hold._

_“Hold still. I want to make sure it’s big enough to fit both of us.”_

_“Fred--”_

_A stern “Excuse me,” made them freeze and look up at a displeased sales clerk glaring down at them. “There have been several complaints and if you two cannot control yourselves, I will be forced to ask you to leave the store.”_

_Fred cleared his throat and lazily wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “So sorry, ma’am. We’ll take this one.”_

_“Allow me the pleasure of checking you out,” the clerk said with a frown._

_Back at the flat, when all the parts had been unboxed, Hermione couldn’t help but lapse into a fit of giggles. Fred bemusedly puzzled over the large, pink and blue flower covered fabric._

_“It was grey in the store!” he protested._

_“It comes in several different colors. Didn’t you look at the color before pulling the box?” Hermione asked, letting out another laugh._

_“It’s all in Swedish. How was I to know?” Fred let out a pathetic whimper as he picked up a throw pillow._

_“You insisted you could do it on your own. You’re as stubborn as James sometimes...” Hermione sighed and knelt down beside him. “My nan used to have a sofa almost exactly like this that she covered in a plastic protector.”_

_“Yes, because it’d be a real shame if this design got messed up.”_

_Hermione grabbed the instructions and handed Fred the hex key. “Time to make like the Avengers and assemble.”_

  
  
  


Hermione was awoken by a hand, shaking her shoulder. Blinking her eyes into focus, she saw James standing by her side with a look of concern.

“Why are you crying? Did you have a bad dream?” James asked.

Hermione swiped a hand across her cheeks, surprised to find that they were indeed wet with fresh tears. She shook her head and gave James a smile. “No, not bad. Just sad.” She moved over and patted the space beside her. James climbed up and snuggled into her side. “Why are you awake? It’s nowhere near time to get up.”

“I wanted water, but I heard you crying.”

“You’re such a sweetheart,” Hermione said, kissing his cheek and giving him a squeeze.

“Are you sad about Uncle Fred breaking you?”

Hermione looked down at the seriousness of the little boy's face. “Where did you hear that?”

“I heard Mummy and Daddy talking about it.”

“You shouldn’t be listening in on adults’ conversations, mister.”

“But they get upset when I don’t listen.”

Hermione laughed. “They get upset when you don’t listen to _instructions_.”

“How do I know if they’re saying ‘structions unless I listen to everything?”

“You got me there, kiddo,” Hermione sighed. The child was almost too smart for his age sometimes. She took a moment to think about how to answer his original question before saying, “Uncle Freddy didn’t ‘break’ me. He broke up with me.”

“What does ‘broke up’ mean?”

“It means that we used to love each other, like your mummy and daddy. Then Uncle Freddy decided he didn’t love me like that anymore and we stopped spending so much time together.”

James’ eyes went wide and he asked, “Will that happen to Mummy and Daddy?”

“Oh, no, sweetheart. Your mum and dad love each other so much. They’re going to be together forever.”

James laid down and stole half of Hermione’s blanket as he cuddled up to her. With a yawn, he mumbled, “I’m sorry Uncle Freddy broke you.”

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, James.”

“Love you, Aunt ‘Mione.”


	2. Quarantine Day 1

Hermione was woken for a second time by two sets of hands shaking her awake. She squinted against the sunlight to see Albus kneeling beside his brother as they both attempted to rouse her. 

“Hungy, ‘Minee!” Albus cried when he saw her eyes open.

Hermione groaned and stretched her legs. “Why aren’t you jumping on Uncle Fred? It’s his house.”

“Uncle Fred can’t make waffles,” James said.

“I know Grandma Molly gave him a waffle iron. Let’s go see if we can find it.” 

Hermione untangled herself from the blanket and shuffled into the kitchen. She searched through the cabinets and surprisingly found all the ingredients to make waffles. The bareness of Fred’s cupboards worried her and the fridge contents did nothing to alleviate it. There were the bare necessities for sandwiches and she would easily be able to multiply it, but she wasn’t sure if there was a limit to how many times food could be multiplied.

“Well, we have the stuff to make waffles but no waffle iron to make them on,” Hermione sighed.

“Up there!” James called and Hermione followed his pointing to the cabinet above the refrigerator. 

Hermione pulled a kitchen chair over and even with the extra boost she was on tiptoes, trying to get a grasp on the appliance. As her fingers wrapped around the handle, she lost her balance and started toppling sideways. For a split second, she thought she was going to need that floo connection to St. Mungo’s. Her fall was stopped, though, by a taller, sturdier body jumping between her and the floor. Unfortunately, no buffer existed for the waffle iron as it slammed into her shoulder and crashed to the floor.

Hermione bit her lip so that her howl of pain was brought down to a hiss. Fred pulled her off the chair and set her on the floor. When she was steady on her feet and rubbing her shoulder, Fred pointed his wand at the waffle iron and said, “Accio waffle iron.” It flew up into his hands and he placed it on the counter. “You can still use magic in quarantine,” he huffed before walking off to the bathroom. 

“Are you okay?” James asked, looking up at her with concern.

“Yeah, it’s just a bruise.” She gestured for the boys to sit at the table. After a quick multiplication spell on the few bananas Fred had, she gave three to the boys and handed a dull butter knife to James. “How about you cut these up and I’ll mix up the batter. Then you can stir the bananas in.”

“Okay!” 

James and Albus each grabbed a banana and started peeling. Hermione moved back to the counter and started measuring out the ingredients. Fred’s voice instructing her, “Lift your shirt up,” caused her to jump and send sugar spilling onto the floor.

“I’m sorry, what?” She asked, taking a step back.

Fred held up a tin of bruise paste and nodded at her shoulder. “I can’t imagine taking a waffle iron to the shoulder felt fantastic.”

Hermione glanced at the boys. James was carefully slicing a banana while Albus shoved one into his mouth. With a resigned sigh, she gingerly pulled her arm from her t-shirt and revealed the bruise that had bloomed on her shoulder.

“Fuck, Hermione. That’s a nasty one.” As he pushed her hair away from her shoulder, his fingers grazed her neck, causing her body to involuntarily shiver and break out in goose-pimples. She ducked her head and closed her eyes as Fred dabbed the cool paste over her shoulder. When she heard the jar snap shut, she looked up and found his eyes locked with hers. “Next time you need something, just ask,” he said before retreating back to the bathroom.

“I’m done!” James called, shaking Hermione from her dazed state. She hastily put her shirt back on and re-measured the sugar as James brought his plate of banana slices to the counter. “I only gotted to cut two ‘nanas ‘cause Al ated one.”

Hermione laughed and looked back to see Albus shriek and try to run away as Fred descended on him with a washcloth. The little boy jumped onto the couch but was luckily caught before he could bury his sticky face into Hermione’s pillow. Fred just chuckled as Albus blew raspberries against the cloth.

Breakfast was uneventful and once Albus had been subjected to his second face wipe of the morning, their next quarantine obstacle was clothing. The boys had been sent with one extra set of clothes in their packs in the event of a bathroom accident but Hermione had nothing but the clothes she was currently wearing. 

“If you check the bottom drawer of my wardrobe, I think there’s a shirt or two that you left behind,” Fred said as he helped James step into a fresh pair of trousers. “And you can borrow a pair of my joggers.” 

Left behind... He made it sound like she had simply chosen to not come back for her things instead of being suddenly ejected from his life. After Fred had broken things off with her, Hermione had barely been able to leave her house, let alone entertain the thought of coming here for a few meaningless articles of clothing. Now, the mere thought of going into his bedroom brought on a fresh wave of anxiety. 

“Hermione?”

Her head snapped up. Fred was looking at her, a hint of irritation on his face as if he felt like she hadn’t been listening to him. 

“Yeah, I’ll go check,” Hermione answered before he could repeat himself. She took a deep breath and hoped that her nerves weren’t physically visible as she walked to the bedroom.

The bedroom was exactly how she remembered it. Eggshell walls with one window that overlooked the shop entrance and Diagon Alley. The window was accented with white and navy blue checkered curtains that had been given to the twins when they first moved in. The only thing that was different was the duvet covering the queen bed. It seemed Fred had finally gotten rid of the tattered maroon one he’d had forever and replaced it with a blue one that actually paired with his curtains.

As Hermione knelt down to the wardrobe drawer, she was hit with the memory of the last time she had been in this room…

_Fred hovered over her naked body, his own just as bare and sweaty. An elbow on either side of her, supporting his weight, he bent down and kissed her deeply before moving to kiss her neck and nip at the sensitive pulse point. When he pulled away, Hermione gazed up at his sparkling brown eyes and couldn’t help but smile._

_“Merlin, I love you so fucking much,” he breathed._

_“I love you too,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him back down to her._

_“How much?” he asked, pulling back against her hold._

_“So fucking much,” she giggled and he let her pull him back to her lips._

Hermione let out a sob and buried her face in her hands. The quarantine hadn’t even been in effect twenty-four hours and it was already too long. It left her wondering what higher power she had so horribly slighted that this was her punishment? It wasn’t fair! She had worked so hard to pull herself up after being crushed and had finally been feeling like she was in a good place. Now it was all being undone within twelve hours and it just wasn’t fair!

Snatching a vaguely familiar shirt from the bottom drawer and a pair of running shorts from the middle, Hermione made a mad dash to the bathroom where her crying could be drowned out by the sound of the shower.

The afternoon arrived with the first of many “I’m bored!” complaints from the eldest Potter boy. Always the supportive younger brother, Albus chimed in with his own yells of “Bore!”.

“I think it’s time for Al’s N-A-P,” Hermione said as the littlest jumped at her feet, arms outstretched.

“Uncle Freddy, can we go down to the shop? Please, please, please!” James begged.

“Sure.” Fred scooped Albus up and said, “I’ll go read this little one a story, and Aunt Hermione can take you downstairs. Just stay out of the lab, okay?”

“Okay!” James cheered and was through the door that led downstairs before Hermione was able to register what was going on. Hermione followed as Fred took a whining Albus to the bedroom.

Down in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, Hermione lit the lamps and found James had climbed up onto the stool at the till and was pressing random buttons, laughing every time it dinged and the empty drawer sprung open.

“Aunt ‘Mione, you be the cusmer and I'm gonna be Uncle Freddy. Go buy ‘tuff!” James instructed.

Hermione grabbed a basket from the front of the shop and walked up and down the aisles. She knew most of the products by heart and could probably stock the shelves blindfolded. But she noted that there were a few new products prominently displayed at the aisle ends. She picked up a box that had ‘Geyser Cauldron’ boldly printed on all sides, with a picture of a standard looking, black cauldron spewing its contents into the air. She put it into the basket with a cringe thinking about the mess that went along with it. After adding a trick wand, Extendable Ears, and a Self-Writing Quill, Hermione took her items to the till.

“Excuse me, good sir,” She said, pulling the cauldron from the basket. “Does this cauldron come in gold? Everything in my kitchen is gold and I want this to match.”

“No, just black. But you can paint it gold,” James said, pulling the other items from the basket. 

Hermione sighed. “I guess that will have to do.”

“It’s a very good cauldron. Uncle George showed me how it works.” James punched in random numbers on the till and then declared, “Your total comes to a zillion galleons!”

“A zillion, huh? That’s pretty steep for a trick wand…” Hermione said, digging into the shorts pockets. She was surprised to make contact with a smooth metal object. When she pulled it out she laughed and showed it to James. “I seem to have left all my galleons at home. Will you accept a silver nail clipper?”

“Yes.” James took the clipper from her and dropped it into the drawer. “Thank you! Please come again!”

“With prices like this, I most certainly will.” 

Hermione picked up her basket of goodies and as she retreated from the counter, started placing them back on the shelves. James jumped off the stool and ran to the front windows. 

“It’s raining,” he commented when Hermione put the basket back on the stack. 

Hermione sat down on the floor, staring out at the deserted village. It was surreal to see it completely void of shoppers on a Saturday afternoon. Any other day, James would be out there, jumping in the rain puddles with other random kids, squealing his head off. Today, he climbed into her lap and let out a depressed little hum.

“I can see Miss Tilda,” he piped up suddenly, pointing at the shop across the street. 

The shop was fairly new, not there a year yet. It was called SereniTea- a combination of a tea shop and a yoga studio. Hermione hadn’t been there yet. Mainly because she wasn’t a fan of yoga but also because she could only imagine the horror show of smells mingling in there. Sweat was not something she wanted to be added to her Oolong.

Following James’ gaze, Hermione saw a very fit woman, with a long blonde ponytail, contorting herself into various, painful-looking poses. She attempted not to compare herself to the very bendy woman and instead wondered how many others were stuck quarantined in their shops, never getting the chance to get home before everything was locked down. James, of course, couldn’t see her internal crisis and blurted out, “She comes over to talk to Uncle Freddy a lot.”

“That’s nice of her,” Hermione said, curtly.

“Uncle George doesn’t like her. He says she’s fake and her shop smells funny,” James continued.

Hermione grinned. She should probably scold him for listening to adult conversations but she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the child’s fresh honesty.

“Your Uncle George is a smart man.”

The two sat in silence, watching the rain fall on the empty street. Every now and then a gust of wind would blow through and violently splatter raindrops across the window.

“Can you sing me a rain song?” James asked.

“Sure. How about rain, rain, go away. Come again another day.”

“No. I know that one already.”

“Okay.” Hermione thought for a moment and then sang, “It’s raining, it’s pouring. The old man is snoring. He--”

“Heard it.”

“Itsy Bitsy Spider?”

“That’s a baby song!” James protested. “I want a song I’ve never heard before.”

“Okay, okay. Let me think.” Hermione leafed through her mental record collection before landing on a favorite. It wasn’t a nursery rhyme, but it was a song about rain that she didn’t think James would know. She started to sing, “I never meant to cause you any sorrow. I never meant to cause you any pain. I only wanted to one time to see you laughing. I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain.”

James twisted around to look at her. “Purple rain?”

Hermione nodded and continued singing, “Purple rain, purple rain. Purple rain, purple rain. Purple rain, purple rain. I only wanted to see you bathing in the purple rain.”

James looked conflicted. He glanced over her shoulder and asked, “Is that a real song, Uncle Freddy?” Hermione glanced back and saw Fred standing there, nodding. “Who sings it?” James demanded.

“A musician named Prince,” Hermione answered.

“Can you sing some of the song, Uncle Freddy?” James asked, looking at Fred expectantly.

“I can do better than that. I have the record in the back,” Fred answered and Hermione let out a soft giggle. “Something funny?”

Hermione ignored him and turned to James. “Uncle Freddy doesn’t sing. I used to always try to get him to sing with me but--”

“I’ll be right back,” Fred interrupted and went back through to the employee’s only part of the shop. James jumped up from Hermione’s lap and she pushed herself back to her feet. Moments later the opening chords of Purple Rain filled the shop. James looked around in awe as Prince belted out the lyrics that Hermione had just sung.

“It is a real song,” he whispered, looking at Hermione and smiling. “He has a nice voice.”

“He really does,” Hermione said with a small laugh. 

“Prince is Aunt Hermione’s favorite singer,” Fred said as he returned to the front of the shop.

“Yeah, we used to--” Hermione stopped herself, not wanting to let herself go down that path of memories.

“Used to what?” James asked, shoving Hermione down memory lane.

“Dance. This was--is one of my favorite songs to dance to,” Hermione said with a sad smile. She glanced at Fred, curious what effect the song was having on him, but his face was calm and passive and it only broke Hermione’s heart more. 

“You can’t dance to this song though. It’s too slow,” James observed.

“That just means you dance slow,” Hermione said.

“I want to dance fast!”

Fred laughed and said, “Then you’ll love the next song.”

As Purple Rain faded, there was the click of the record player switching album sides. The shop was then filled with liturgical music as Prince announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have gathered here today to get through this thing called life”. James lit up as the guitar riff kicked in and he started bouncing and spinning. Hermione and Fred laughed and clapped along to the beat, watching as James lost himself in the music.

As the descending notes of the awe-inspiring closing guitar solo rang through the shop, James stood still, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

“James? You okay, buddy?” Hermione asked.

James looked up at her and whispered, “Is he a wizard?”

“I like to think so,” Hermione laughed, reaching out and ruffling his hair.

They listened to the next song but James was nowhere near as taken with it as ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ and made Fred repeat the song two more times before he agreed to go back up to the flat for a snack. 

“Do you mind if I hang out down here a little longer?” Hermione asked Fred before he could disappear behind the curtain.

“No, that’s fine.” He paused for a moment and then asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I just need a quiet minute.”

Fred nodded and ducked behind the curtain. When she heard his footsteps on the stairs, Hermione let loose the tears she had been holding back as she walked back to the front window and sat back down on the floor. 

The rain was still falling and Bendy Tilda was still performing inhuman contortions in her shop. She couldn’t help but wonder what her and Fred talked about when she visited. Was she the one he was supposed to be going out with last night? Was she the one that got to see his eyes sparkle and hear his laugh? Was she the one he twirled around the store after closing and wrapped his arms around, making her feel safe and loved.

Hermione let her mind fall deeper down a well of sorrow as her tears blended in with the rain streaking down the window.


	3. Quarantine Day 5

The foursome fell into a comfortable routine after that first day. James and Albus would spend the morning drawing and playing with the few toys they had. When Fred would take Albus for a nap, James would run down to the shop, shouting out his music request as he scrambled up to the till. They’d play ‘shopping’ for a bit before and then have a mini dance party. The evenings were spent cobbling together odd ingredients to make a passable dinner and the boys would fall asleep watching cartoons in the bedroom. And through it all, Hermione and Fred were civil and polite on an almost painful level. It felt like they were pulling on opposite ends of a rubber band and she was waiting for the inevitable snap.

Late in the morning of the fifth day, Hermione was sitting on the floor, trying to contain Albus’ artwork to the oversized sheet of parchment in front of them. The unexpected  _ whoosh  _ of the floo made her let out a cry of surprise that was quickly replaced with an “Ow!” as a thick envelope flew out and hit her in the face.

“Otay, ‘Minee?” Albus asked, putting his face flush to hers.

“I’m okay,” she replied, rubbing at her stinging nose. She picked up the envelope and pulled out a letter from the Ministry, along with another empty envelope.

“What’s it say?” Fred asked, sitting down on the couch.

“They’ve cleared all traces of the virus from Diagon Alley,” Hermione said as her eyes scrolled over the words. “New patients are still being admitted daily, though. It could take two weeks for symptoms to emerge so they’re saying the quarantine will last at least another ten days, possibly more if the patient number hasn’t dropped to an acceptable number. The Ministry and St. Mungo’s are working on sending out an essentials package full of food and toiletries. If we would like to have them include a letter in a family member’s box, we can use this envelope and send something back through to the hospital today.” Hermione passed the letter to Fred and turned to the boys. “Would you like to draw pictures for Mummy? We can send her a letter and I bet it would make her so happy to see some of your drawings.”

“I’m going to draw us dancing in the shop!” James said excitedly, grabbing a fresh sheet of parchment. 

While the boys started new drawings, Hermione took a sheet of parchment so she could write a letter to Ginny, letting her know she and the boys were safe at Fred’s flat and that the boys missed her and Harry terribly. She was about to let her know how hard it was being back there but a snort from behind her halted her writing.

“Stuck at Fred’s?” Fred drawled, walking past her to the sink.

“It’s rude to read people’s personal letters,” Hermione remarked, pulling the parchment closer to her body.

“It’s a letter to  _ my  _ sister.”

“It’s  _ my _ letter to my best friend. If you want to send your sister a letter, you are more than welcome to write your own,” she said, scowling at his back.

“Maybe I will.”

Not knowing how she was supposed to respond to that, she shook her head and went back to writing. As she was finishing, Fred set a plate of sandwiches in the center of the table and sat down beside her. “May I use your quill?” he asked, reaching for the last piece of parchment.

“Knock yourself out,” she said and passed the quill to him, silently adding,  _ ‘and shove it up your arse’ _ , as she folded up her letter. 

After lunch, Fred added his completed letter to the envelope for Ginny and they sent it back through the floo to St. Mungo’s. When Albus let out a long yawn, Fred grabbed the storybook and carted him off to the bedroom for a nap.

Down in the shop, James bypassed the till and darted to the front windows. The rain had returned with a vengeance. Fred must have cast some good noise dampening spells on his flat because in the shop the gale-like winds were wailing and the rain crashed against the cobblestones in sheets. 

“It’s loud!” James called, holding his hands over his ears and pressing his nose up against the glass.

Hermione waved her wand in a wide arc and the wails and roars were dampened to a low rumble. James dropped his hands from his ears and rested them against the window. His eyes were narrowed as if he was trying to study individual drops.

“Can you see anything?” Hermione asked, sitting down on the floor. 

“Nope.”

Hermione chuckled and then jumped up when her bum hit the cold wood. She summoned a pillow from the couch in the stockroom and sat back down. As soon as she was settled, James plopped himself in her lap and rested his head back against her chest.

“Can you sing Purple Rain?” James asked.

“I can go put the record on.”

“I like when you sing it.”

“Okay,” Hermione said, smiling at the heavy note of sleepiness in his voice. She started singing and James’ breathing got heavier and slower. By the end of the song she had closed her eyes and was just humming as she listened to the little snores coming from the little boy. 

“Want me to take him upstairs?”

Hermione opened her eyes to find Fred knelt down in front of her. She nodded and Fred lifted the sleeping child into his arms. Once he was gone, Hermione took advantage of her alone time and let herself cry.

It had become another part of her new daily routine. She didn’t completely break down like she had the first day, but it was a chance to let out her bottled up emotions and she found that doing so made it slightly easier to get through the rest of the day.

Lost in thought, Hermione didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs and was surprised to hear Fred’s voice calling her name. Hastily wiping her eyes and clearing her throat, Hermione turned and said, “Yes?” Unfortunately, her voice came out strangled. Paired with how red her eyes were, it was obvious what she had been doing.

“What’s wrong?” Fred asked, coming to stand in front of her.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Did you need something?”

“You’re not fine. What’s wrong?” he asked again. Kneeling down he looked at her, his face full of worry. “Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?”

“I’m fine, Fred. What did you want?”

“People who are fine don’t cry. If you’re sick, you need to tell me--”

“Leave it alone, Fred.”

“Hermione, tell me. Is this what you’ve been doing every afternoon when James and I leave?”

“Fucking hell!” she cried, jumping to her feet. “Yes, this is exactly what I’ve been doing every afternoon. You leave and I let myself cry so that I can be a somewhat normal human being for the rest of the day and not a fucking neurotic mess.”

“But why? Why are you a neurotic mess?”

Hermione gaped at him, unable to comprehend how he couldn’t know. “Because I’m stuck in this place and I don’t want to be. It feels like I’m being suffocated by memory after memory and it’s so fucking hard!”

“You think it’s been easy for me to have to see you every day?” Fred replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You think I’m not experiencing my own world of hurt.”

“Never said that,” Hermione rasped, wiping the back of her hand across her nose. “But it’s different for me.”

“How is it so different for you?”

“Because at the end of all the hurt, you know why you left. For me, at the end of all of that hurting is just more pain because I’m still left guessing at why and it’s soul-crushingly painful.”

“What are you still left guessing about?”

Hermione let out a frustrated sob and couldn’t stop her tears from flowing again. “Why you left me, you stubborn, insufferable prick!” It felt like she was arguing with a brick wall!

“I told you why I left! If you honestly can’t figure it out then talk to your boyfriend and I’m sure the two of you will be able to suss it out.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Fred let out a frustrated yell and shouted, “I saw you with him, Hermione! I saw you meet him for lunch! I saw you laughing with him and hugging him and kissing him! I saw it all! I saw everything. You want to talk about soul-crushing pain, that was soul-crushing pain of the highest level.”

Hermione let herself fall back down to the floor, drained of energy and full of even more confusion. She had no idea what he was talking about and was desperately trying to figure out what would have had him jump to the conclusion that she had been seeing someone behind his back. Fred let out a huff and went to walk away but Hermione wouldn’t let him go without a proper talk this time.

“Sit down, Fred.”

“I don’t want--”

She looked up and locked his gaze with hers. “I have spent the last six months trying to figure out what I did wrong. It has driven me to the brink of insanity.” She said, trying to keep her voice even and civil. “You say you saw me with another man. Would you please elaborate so I can maybe offer up an explanation?”

Fred drummed his fingers against his thigh, his eyes darting to the curtain for a second before settling on Hermione again. She could see the struggle going on in his mind. Finally, he conceded and sat down in front of her. 

“Fine. Back in June, you were running yourself ragged. There were a bunch of proposals you were working your arse off to finish and we hadn’t been able to see each other much. Do you remember?” Hermione nodded and he continued, “That fateful Wednesday I took a long lunch break so I could surprise you. I went to the little diner I knew you’d be at and found you hidden away in a corner with some bloke I had never seen before. I was going to just go up and ruin your date but didn’t think it was fair to the other customers to make a scene.”

“So you spied on me?”

“You were with another man! I didn’t know what else to do at the moment.” Fred’s voice broke and he looked up as he ran a hand through his hair. “I cast a disillusionment charm and sat outside, watching. And then I followed as he walked you back to the Ministry and you kissed him and...and it felt like I had been broken.”

Hermione didn’t say anything as she watched a tear slip down his cheek. He was still looking up at the ceiling, unable or unwilling to look at her. Now that she had her answer, she wasn’t sure if it made her feel better or worse.

“The man you saw was Christopher,” she finally said.

“Didn’t need a name to go with the face, thanks.”

“You sure as hell need an explanation to go with the situation!”

Fred finally sat forward and glared at her.“You’re gonna sit there and tell me he’s a friend?”

“Of course he is, you arse! Exactly who do you take me for? His parents and my parents are friends. I’ve known him forever but hadn’t seen him since I started at Hogwarts. He works in London now and recognized me. We spent that lunch catching up with each other. When it was over he insisted on walking me back to work. I had to lie and tell him I was a manager at Boots when we neared the Ministry entrance so he’d finally leave before seeing me magically disappear.”

“Why’d you kiss him then?”

“Because he’s a friend! I kiss your brothers all the time. Does that mean I’m sleeping with them too? You’re making it sound like I was snogging this guy in the middle of bloody London!”

“You were kissing another man that I had never seen before! What was I supposed to think, Hermione?” Fred cried.

“That maybe you should talk to your girlfriend before jumping to some insane conclusion!” Hermione scrambled to her feet. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d cheat on you!”

“I saw you with another man!”

Spinning around, she kicked the wall and let loose a scream- half out of sheer anger and half out of the agonizing pain now shooting through her foot. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hermione turned back around. Fred looked like he was fighting between his anger of her ‘betrayal’ and concern for the rapidly swelling foot.

“I loved you, Fred. So  _ fucking much _ ,” she choked out with a sob. “I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you. The irony of this fucked up situation is that I used to dream about our future- me, you, and a couple of kids. Now it finally happens and you and I hate each other while playing house with a couple of kids that aren’t ours.”

Fred’s face fell even further and he whispered, “I don’t hate you.”

“You have a shitty way of showing it.” Hermione let out a long breath and ran a hand through her hair. “I think what hurts the most at the moment is knowing how little trust you had in me and how quickly you were able to scrub me from your life. I hope you show Bendy Tilda more consideration.”

Attempting to keep her dignity, Hermione tried her best to walk away without wincing in pain. She failed, spectacularly, and let out a little sob when she put the tiniest bit of pressure on her right foot.

“Bendy Tilda? Hermione, wait.” Fred rushed to her side and caught her by the elbow before she fell into the bucket of fake wands.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, ripping her elbow away and toppling the opposite way onto a shelf full of trick sweets. She let out a pitiful whimper as an orange tin hit the top of her head and fell into her lap.

“Don’t move,” Fred instructed. He used his wand to clear the products away from her before scooping her up and cradling her in his arms. “Pretty sure you broke that foot.”

“It’s fine. I just need to ice it,” Hermione muttered, lifting up the tin and inspecting it. There was a picture of an otter with a top hat over the words  _ Otters Fizzy Orange Juice _ . “I’ve never seen this before.”

“We released it over the summer,” Fred said as he carried her through the shop and back up to the flat. He gently placed her on the couch and propped her foot up on a pillow. “I’ll be right back.”

As he went about gathering ice and bandages, Hermione lifted the tin back up. The otter on the front looked exactly like her Patronus. She was going to ask about the resemblance, but then Fred placed an ice pack on her foot and she sucked in a quick breath.

“Sorry,” he murmured, slowly moving it so that it sat directly over the swelling. “I’m going to wrap the bandage over it to hold it in place.”

“What happened?”

Hermione glanced back and saw a rumpled James shuffling out of the bedroom.

“I banged my foot against the wall and Uncle Freddy is putting ice on it. Did you have a good nap?”

“I’m a big kid. I don’t take naps,” James said with a pout.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have a nice rest?”

“Yes,” James answered. His pout quickly faded when he saw the tin in Hermione’s hand. “Do we get to have some fizzy drink?”

“You want to show Aunt Hermione what it does?” Fred asked.

“Yes!”

“Go ahead and open it,” Fred said, nodding at the tin. “I’ll go get water.”

James buzzed with excitement beside her as she twisted the lid off. Tiny orange candies were housed inside. Hermione held it up and gave it a sniff. The tart, tangy smell tickled her nose and she was unable to stop the sneeze that came out, making James giggle. When Fred returned, he handed them each a glass of water. He then took three of the candies from the tin and dropped one into each cup. The water instantly turned bright orange and what appeared to be sparks shot up above the rim.

Hermione hesitated before she took a sip. She watched as Fred and James took hearty gulps and then instantly started burping. With each belch, a large orange bubble emerged from their mouths. Instead of popping, the bubble morphed into an orange otter that swam around the room for thirty-seconds before disappearing. 

“Try it, Aunt ‘Mione!” James cried before letting loose another belch and adding another otter to the air.

Fred smirked and Hermione couldn’t help but stick her tongue out at him. He turned to James and said, “Aunt Hermione doesn’t like to burp.”

“Correction, I think it’s a very rude sound,” Hermione huffed.

“Haven’t you ever burped, Aunt ‘Mione?” 

“I have. I just do it very discreetly,” she answered, warily eyeing the exploding drink in her hand. She knew he had invented it as a sweet, teasingly way to wind her up and wondered why he still released it after he had broken up with her. 

“I don’t think she even knows how to burp, James,” Fred said, followed by a very loud, offending belch.

“Come on, Aunt ‘Mione! It’s fun!”

“Come on, Aunt ‘Mione,” Fred chimed in, prodding her uninjured foot.

“I can’t believe we’ve devolved to this,” Hermione sighed. She tentatively held the glass to her lips, took a breath, and then downed a gulp of the sweet, fizzy drink. She could feel the gas build instantly and rise up her throat. Unable to hold it back, Hermione belched out a neon bubble. The ensuing little otter circled her head before launching into the air, performing a little flip, and then diving down before disappearing.

Fred and James cheered and clapped, successfully ending Albus’ nap. When the toddler saw what all the commotion was about, he instantly started chasing the wispy otters around the living room that Fred and James burped out. When they reached the bottom of their drinks, Albus pouted and cried, “More!”

“Gotta ask Aunt Hermione,” Fred said with a shrug. He collected James’ empty glass and took it to the kitchen. 

“More, ‘Minee!” Albus begged.

“You know, I can do this without employing bad manners.” Hermione set her glass aside and patted her pockets. Before she could ask, Fred held out her wand to her. “Thank you. Watch this.” She performed the intricate wand movements and shouted, “Expecto Patronum!” 

Her silver otter burst forth, swimming laps around the room with James and Albus running and jumping after it. Albus stopped suddenly and James knocked into him with a yelp.

“I hafta poo!” Albus announced and then strode to the bathroom.

Fred chuckled and then knelt down beside Hermione, his lips disappearing into a thin line of worry. When he finally spoke, he said, “I’m sorry. I really want to talk. Can you give me a day to sort out my head?”

“Okay,” she whispered with a nod.

“Uncle Feddy!” Albus yelled.

“Be right there buddy.” He gave Hermione a sad smile before standing once more and striding off to the bathroom. Hermione started to get up to take her cup to the sink when Fred called back, “Don’t you move off that couch, Granger!”

Fred Weasley was surely going to be the end of her sanity...

  
  



	4. Quarantine Day 6

“It’s here! The box is here!” James yelled, running to the bathroom and throwing the door open. Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at Fred’s surprised cry of, “Oi! Privacy, mate!” She summoned the box to the couch, swiveling her body so she could rest her foot on the coffee table.

The swelling had subsided, leaving behind bruising on the top of her foot and toes. Fred insisted it was broken and refused to perform any basic healing spells, afraid he’d make it worse. Instead, he kept the extremity iced and supplied Hermione with pain relief potions. Hermione was pretty sure nothing was broken and that she had most likely severely sprained it during her angry outburst. All the fight in her had been spent the previous day, though, and she allowed Fred his fussing.

“What have we got?” Fred asked, settling himself on the arm of the couch. Hermione tore back the tape and opened the cardboard box. On top was an envelope addressed to Hermione and the boys. Fred picked it up and frowned. “Why did she leave me out?”

“She wasn’t expecting us to be with you. She must have assumed we got back to my house before the lockdown went into effect,” Hermione answered, pushing aside toilet paper, toothpaste, and soap. She pulled out two canvas bags full of food and passed them to Fred. “You’ll want to put this stuff in the fridge.”

“Did they send crisps and bisicks?” James asked, leaning over the box. 

“I doubt it, buddy. But go look at what Uncle Freddy has. I bet we got enough stuff to make a batch of biscuits.

As James dashed to the kitchen, Albus clamored over her legs to get his own peek at the loot. “Kips?” he asked, looking up at her with big eyes.

“Sorry, kiddo, no crisps.”

“Bugga,” he groaned, plopping down on Hermione’s lap.

“Hey, that’s not an Albus word,” Hermione laughed, locking him in a side hug and tickling his belly. 

“Careful with your foot,” Fred warned. He held out a mug and said, “Trade you tea for an Al.”

“I don’t know…” Hermione said, holding Albus close. “It would really have to come with biscuits for it to be a fair trade.”

“If you give me explicit step by step instructions, I might be able to churn out an edible biscuit or 2. Here,” he said, handing her the mug of tea and lifting Albus from her lap. “They sent some apples. Should we slice one up?”

“No apples,” Albus replied, vigorously shaking his head.

Hermione pulled toiletries from the box and on the very bottom found another envelope. This one was addressed to Fred. “It seems as though you do have a letter.”

Fred sat Albus at the table with a banana and then returned to Hermione’s side for his letter. Letting himself fall onto the spot beside her, he ripped open the envelope. The mood between them had definitely shifted since the previous day. It seemed as though they had both needed a moment to vent their pent up grievances with each other. Fred seemed lighter and was more of his usual, teasing self. Hermione let herself ease up around him, though couldn’t help but stay a bit reserved. Letting her anger out had been a big relief but the truth behind the breakup still stung.

“Cor, I dodged a jinx there,” Fred chuckled, tucking his letter back into the envelope.

“Was that from George?”

“Yeah, he got locked down in the club I was supposed to be meeting him at. He says it’s bloody miserable. A load of sweaty drunks with no showers and Cormac McClaggen trying to shag anything that moves.”

“Ugh,” Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t talk about that man so close to mealtime. You’ll trigger my gag reflex.” She floated the toiletries to the bathroom and asked, “Were you supposed to be going there with Bendy Tilda?”

Fred gave her a confused look and shook his head. “Why do you keep calling her Bendy Tilda?”

“James told me her name was Tilda. I saw her doing yoga and she’s very bendy so...” She shrugged and said, “Hence the name Bendy Tilda.”

“Right,” Fred said with a soft laugh. He turned so he was facing Hermione. “First thing, I guess. I was going to the club to be George’s wingman. He’s been trying to charm his way into Pansy Parkinson’s knickers for some time now.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly. Second, where are you getting the idea that Tilda and I are in a relationship?”

“James told me that she comes over to visit with you.”

“You’re going off information from a five-year-old?”

“A very smart and perceptive five-year-old,” Hermione countered.

“Touche.” They snuck a glance back at the boys playing at the table. James had gotten out the modeling clay and was covering Albus’ left hand in green clay while Al held his banana in the right. “I’m not dating Bendy Tilda. Shit, now you got me saying it.” Fred ran a hand over his face and then continued, “She comes over to shamelessly flirt with us and drop off fliers for her odd-smelling shop. I end up having to talk to her because George has developed a sixth sense for when she’s on the move and suddenly has an excuse for buggering off.”

“You know, I had a feeling her shop would have a funny smell. Really, who can enjoy their tea while sitting in a sweatbox?”

Fred’s mouth curved up with a mischievous grin. “If memory serves me right, you always enjoyed a cuppa after certain strenuous activities.”

“That--that is completely different and way off-topic,” Hermione protested, heat flooding her cheeks. 

After lunch, James waited patiently for Fred to finish putting Albus down for his nap so they could go down to the shop. While Fred was preoccupied, Hermione held a finger to her lips, hoping James wouldn’t rat her out as she pushed herself off the couch and hobbled to the closet. As quietly as she could, she sifted through years of castaway items, knowing exactly what she was looking for.

“Ah-ha!” she whispered when she spied two Beater bats in the far corner. Summoning them from the closet, she brought them to rest on the floor and set to work transfiguring a set of crutches. It was bad enough being stuck in quarantine. She refused to be stuck on the couch any longer.

“Where’s your Aunt Hermione?” Fred’s voice worried from the living room.

“Don’t know,” James answered. “Can we go to the shop now?”

“Just a minute.” Fred rounded the corner just as Hermione put the finishing touch on the second crutch. “How much did you pay the kid to cover for you?”

“I don’t have to bribe him. He does it out of love,” Hermione replied, smugly, as she flicked her wand and the crutches flew up to the standing position. “My arse was going numb on that sofa. I needed to move.”

“I can carry you. You don’t have to risk life and limb--”

“Stop being so bloody dramatic, Fred. I’m not going to have you carry me everywhere, like some damsel in distress.”

“Are those my bats?”

“I finally put them to some good use. Can we get moving so James can go dance some energy out?” Hermione reached out with a crutch and poked his leg.

“Merlin, you’re so damn stubborn.”

“Little ears are listening,” Hermione said, arching her eyebrows and looking past Fred to James.

As punishment for seeking independent mobility, Hermione was forced to take a streeler’s pace down the steps as Fred walked in front of her, in case she toppled headfirst down the staircase.

“What would we like to hear today?” Fred asked, moving the stool to the front of the shop. He gestured for Hermione to sit and then scowled when she declined.

“Can I make a request?” Hermione asked.

“Is it Purple Rain?” James climbed up onto the stool.

“No, it’s something new. Well, new to you. Something you haven’t heard before.”

“Something we can dance to?” James asked eagerly. 

“Oh yeah!”

“Aunt Hermione can’t dance on a broken foot.” Fred interrupted

“It’s not broken,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “And I can sway along to the music.”

Fred looked as though he was going to argue but then closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “What shall I put on?”

“Do you still have the Diamond Dogs album?” Hermione asked.

“Of course. One doesn’t just simply toss out David Bowie.” Fred grabbed his chest in faux shock. “I’m going to spend a little time in the lab. If you need anything, send James in, please.”

“Start with the second track,” Hermione called as he walked back towards the curtain and Fred waved his acknowledgment.

When the music started, James cocked his head to the side, listening to the notes in the same manner that a sommelier would taste a vintage red wine. It must have pleased his palette because he vaulted off the stool and began dancing circles around Hermione. Rebel Rebel sent him into overdrive. He grabbed two fake wands and started playing drums on the stool. When it ended, he raced to the back of the shop and demanded Fred play it again. 

As the album was winding down Fred finally emerged from the lab, red-faced and sweaty.

“What I wouldn’t give to be able to open that door right now,” he sighed, gazing longingly out the window. There was no rain, but it did look overcast and cool. Fred turned to Hermione and gave her a skeptical look. “Have you sat down at all?”

“One simply doesn’t sit down when David Bowie is singing,” Hermione gasped, echoing Fred’s earlier pearl-clutching gesture. 

Fred gaped at her and then turned to James. “And now she’s mocking me? That’s it. We’re going upstairs and you,” he pointed to Hermione, “are going to sit down and tell young Potter and me how to make biscuits.”

“Yeah! Bisicks!” James cried and ran for the stairs.

By the time Hermione and Fred made it back up to the flat, James was rummaging around in the refrigerator while a bleary-eyed Albus looked on. Hermione took a seat at the kitchen table and started rattling off the ingredients while Fred and James pulled them from the fridge and cupboards. 

As James stirred the batter, Fred disappeared for a minute and then came back with a bar of Honeydukes chocolate. James’ eyes lit up at the surprise and he quickly agreed to add chocolate bits to the biscuits.

After dinner and allowing herself and Fred to be strong-armed into letting the boys have three cookies each, Hermione floated the dirty dishes to the sink for Fred to wash.

“It was nice to have a proper meal. I was getting tired of sandwiches,” Hermione commented, siphoning up crumbs with a _Tergeo_ spell. “Your chicken turned out to be surprisingly good.”

“I’m slowly gaining competence in the kitchen,” Fred said, stacking plates in the dish drainer. 

Hermione placed her wand on the table and slumped back in her chair. “I wonder how much work I’m going to be going back to?” she said, letting a random thought escape her mind. 

“I’m sure your co-workers have been happily helping with the extra projects,” Fred replied. “I have a feeling you’ve been needing to share the workload for a while anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione frowned

“You want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“It means you tend to be a workaholic and need to learn to slow down and make room for other things in your life.”

Hermione scowled and said, “I think I have my work and personal life perfectly balanced, thank you very much.”

Fred snorted a laugh. “If you say so.”

“What’s so funny?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Fred took a deep breath and answered, “Because you don’t, Hermione. Your nonstop work schedule is the main reason I assumed you were having an affair.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry. You’re going to use my career as an excuse for your mistrust?” Hermione asked incredulously. 

“No, I’m trying to give you context on where my head was at that time. We went days on end without seeing each other and I kept getting the same reasoning from you. There were important projects and reports and meetings. If I did get to see you in the evenings, I’d get a half-hour of conversation from you before exhaustion took over. You’re constantly trying to be everything for everyone, which is a testament to your amazing selfless and giving nature, but…” Fred placed his hands on the table and bowed his head. “But sometimes I just wanted you to be you. Be with me. Just...be.”

Tears stung Hermione’s eyes but he wasn’t going to be let off the hook that easily. “I’m not going to apologize for doing my job, Fred. I’m sorry you felt like you were being ignored but you should have come and talked to me. We’re adults, in adult relationships. Throwing a strop and running away doesn’t solve anything. Everyone just ends up hurt.”

Without looking up, Fred moved his hand over to cover hers. “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

“Yeah, me too,” she whispered.

When he finally looked up at her, he asked, “Do you think there’s any chance we can get back what we had?”

Taking a deep breath, Hermione answered honestly, “I don’t know.”

“I hope you’ll let me try.” 


	5. Quarantine Day 9

If Hermione thought the first week of magical lockdown was hard, it was nothing compared to the torture of the past two days. After a day full of unforced conversation and playful teasing, she and Fred were back to pleasant civility. Well, pleasant civility whenever Fred wasn’t locking himself in the lab.

After breakfast, Fred would make sure Hermione was set up with the boys and not in any extra pain with her foot, and then he’d go down to the lab. He would make an appearance at lunch to eat, put Albus down for his nap, and then go back to the shop to put on music for James before shutting himself up in the lab again. When he would come up for dinner his face was pinched and drawn.

Hermione was torn about what she actually wanted to happen. Her head said that it was time for her to finally move on. She had gotten answers to her questions about the breakup and finally knew that she had done absolutely nothing wrong. 

Her heart was a completely different story. When push came to shove, she still loved Fred. Yes, he could be childish and impulsive, but that was part of why she fell for him in the first place. Childish and impulsive had never been in Hermione’s nature, even when she was in primary school. She loved that he could so easily make her laugh and loosen up with a joke or pun so bad she couldn’t help but laugh until she cried. Or the fact there was a chance of coming home to find her suitcase packed because Fred had read in a magazine that afternoon about sea turtle eggs hatching in the Philippines and it was something they _had_ to witness. Left on her own, Hermione would have planned that trip down to the second instead of letting herself be whisked away on what had been the most chaotic and amazing vacation she had ever taken.

As their ninth day came to a close, Hermione made her way back down to the shop while Fred got James and Albus ready for bed. The cobblestone streets were slick from earlier rain. She propped herself against the wall and watched as shop lights started to go out. The SereniTea shop lights were still blazing. Bendy Tilda was sitting cross-legged on the floor, seemingly in the middle of a meditation.

“What are you looking at?”

Hermione jumped at the sudden intrusion on her quiet moment. Glancing back, she screwed her mind up in confusion before she registered that it was Fred standing behind her.

“You look surprised to see me. Are you okay?” he asked, his face falling with concern.

“Yeah, fine. You startled me.” She turned back to the window and nodded to the other shop. “I was just watching, um…” Hermione trailed off, suddenly lost for the blonde woman’s name.

“Tilda?”

Hermione nodded and continued, “I’m watching Bendy Tilda doing some nightly meditation.”

“Absolutely fascinating,” he said with a droll smile. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Hermione turned her back to Bendy Tilda’s store and smiled at Fred. She waited for him to start but he just stood and stared at her. “Fred?”

“I know it’s not nearly enough and way overdue, but I’m sorry Hermione,” he said softly, stepping towards her. “I’m so sorry for hurting you and putting you through hell. I’m sorry for being childish and pushing you away without talking to you first. And most of all, I’m sorry for breaking the trust between us. I trust you more than anyone in the world and, even though I don’t deserve it, I hope you let me show you just how much. Also, please don’t tell George about you being at the top of my trust list,” Fred hastily added.

“I solemnly swear,” Hermione said, tracing an X across her chest. “Fred?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re right. It did hurt and feel like I was being dragged through hell.” Fred’s face fell and he hung his head. “But, I think it hurts more not having you in my life.” She reached out and ran her hand down his arm. “I miss you, Fred Weasley.”

He glanced up at her. “Really?”

“Really.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Fred asked, “Can I show you something?” Hermione nodded and when Fred held out his hand, she slipped hers into it. He led her to the middle of the floor and pulled a jar from his pocket. Letting go of her hand and easing the jar into it, he said, “This is what I’ve been working on in the lab for the past two days.”

There were no labels or decorations on the jar. It was clear glass, filled with a transparent purple liquid. “Is this going to make me burp purple frogs?” she asked, holding it closer to her face for inspection.

“No, you don’t have to drink this. Just open the lid and it’ll do the rest.”

Hermione took a hesitant step back, holding the jar out in the middle of her and Fred. She unscrewed the lid and when she pulled it away, the liquid immediately evaporated from the jar and formed a cloud above their heads. 

“That’s a clever bit of magic. A variation on the Meteolojinx?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Fred answered. He pulled her into his arms and, as they started to dance, he did something Hermione had never heard him do before. He sang to her.

“I never meant to cause you any sorrow. I never meant to cause you any pain. I only wanted to one time to see you laughing…” He paused and aimed his wand at the cloud.

The feel of cool drops on the bare skin of her arms caught her off guard and, looking up, she saw purple raindrops falling from the cloud. When the drops hit her skin, they felt cool and refreshing but didn’t leave any trace of color or wetness. 

“Fred, this is brilliant!” Hermione laughed, holding up a hand to ‘catch’ a raindrop.

Nudging her hair away from her ear with his nose, Fred whispered in her ear, “I only wanted to see you, laughing in the purple rain.”

Hermione couldn’t hold herself back anymore. Placing a hand on either of his cheeks, she pulled Fred down until his lips melded with hers. Much to her relief, he didn’t hold back. His lips parted and he let her tongue swirl around his, while his hands slipped under her t-shirt and caressed her sides. 

Sliding his lips to her jawline, he murmured, “I never should have let you go. I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you’re my idiot,” Hermione breathed. Fred growled and nipped her ear, making her shriek with giggles.

Pulling back so he could look into her eyes, he said, “I love you.”

“How much?”

“I’m about to show you.”

Scooping Hermione into his arms, he made record time scaling the steps and depositing her on the couch. After a quick noise-canceling spell on the bedroom door, Fred was falling onto the sofa and pulling her onto his lap.

Hermione started attacking the buttons on Fred’s shirt as he attempted to strip her t-shirt off. The result was a tangle of limbs and cloth. “We used to be much more efficient at this,” Hermione said, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it behind the couch.

“We’re out of practice,” Fred said, freeing his arms from his shirt and winding them around Hermione to unhook her bra. “Don’t worry, I plan on remedying that.”

Hermione’s head lolled back as Fred pulled her bare chest flush against his. As he kissed and sucked a path across her shoulders and collarbone, she reveled in the familiar warmth of his body and feel of his hands on her flesh. When his mouth covered one of her nipples, Hermione gasped and grinded her hips into his as she raked her fingers through his soft, copper hair. 

Standing up and ignoring the twinge of pain in her foot, Hermione made quick work removing her cloth shorts, as Fred hastily shoved his jogging bottoms down his legs and kicked them off. Moving to the edge of the couch, he ran his hands up the back of her thighs, cupped her arse, and pulled her close until he was nuzzling his nose against her stomach. 

Fred kissed her navel and then inched his mouth lower and lower as he dropped to his knees and plunged his tongue in between her folds. “Oh gods, yes,” she whimpered as he sucked and laved at her clit. One of her hands threaded into Fred’s hair and held him close as she thrust against his face. He let out a delighted hum and sank two fingers into her dripping center. 

Her climax was so close and she was left panting and begging, “Please, Fred!”

He didn’t pull away but she could feel his grin as he murmured, “Please, what?”

“Make me come. Now.”

Fred’s free hand gripped her arse and his tongue danced over her clit while his fingers pressed against her swollen core, beckoning her orgasm to his eager lips. When her climax crested, she cried out his name and summoned all her strength to stay on her feet while wave after wave of intense pleasure made her body quake. Glancing down, she saw Fred pull his fingers from her and suck them into his mouth, all the while his gaze never wavering from hers. 

Slowly, Fred got to his feet and stood flush against her. His hard length pressed against her, eager for an invitation. She slipped a hand between them to give him a slow, firm stroke, eliciting a moan from Fred. She pulled his face to hers and hungrily kissed him, drinking in the taste of her own orgasm, before falling to her knees.

His heavy cock bounced in front of her. Cradling his balls in her fingertips, she darted her tongue out and swiped it over his leaking slit. Fred let out another needy moan and Hermione swirled her tongue over the head of his prick. She really wanted to take her time getting reacquainted with his cock but it had been so long. Her impatience won out and she glided her lips all the way down his shaft.

“Fuck, Hermione,” Fred hissed, grabbing a fistful of her curls and holding her head still as his cock throbbed in her mouth. Flicking her eyes up, she watched as he brought his breathing under control. When he opened his eyes and caught her staring, he shot her a cocky half-smile and gave her hair a tug, letting her know she could resume. 

With his hand still entangled in her hair, Hermione slowly pulled back, dragging the flat of her tongue along the underside of his shaft. When she got to the tip she swirled her tongue around, licking the salty drops leaking from the slit, and then sucked her way back down to the hilt. Her speed and vigor increased with every grunt and moan from Fred until he suddenly, but gently, pulled her head away.

Crouching down, he pulled her into a bruising kiss. “I need to fuck you now,” he purred, sucking the pulse point below her ear.

Sitting back on his heels, Fred placed one hand on the small of her back and wrapped the other around his cock as he guided Hermione to his lap, lined himself up with her entrance, and with a maddingly, torturously slow pace, proceeded to fill her. Once fully sheathed, he rolled his hips up and down in gentle waves, pressing into Hermione in all the right ways.

“That’s it. George can run the shop. I’m going to make a career doing this,” Fred said with a firm thrust.

Hermione let out a cry and pressed her sweaty forehead against his. “And who’s going to pay you for this?”

“Getting paid in orgasms doesn’t seem like such a bad deal, at the moment.” He pulled Hermione close and then snapped his hips up against hers. “Seeing your face as I make you come is worth every last galleon in Gringotts.”

“I want to come with you, Fred,” Hermione panted, digging her nails into his shoulders as the coil in her stomach wound to an untenable peak.

Slipping his hand between them, Fred stroked his thumb over her aching clit and drove into her faster. “I want nothing more than to feel you melt around me as I fill you up.”

“Yes, want that,” Hermione pleaded, grinding against Fred’s thumb.

“Come for me, Hermione,” he rasped against her ear. “Come with me.”

The coil snapped and Hermione’s walls fell with a piercing cry as Fred grunted and pounded against her, spilling his release within seconds after hers. She clung to Fred’s sweaty body as hers shook with aftershocks. 

They sat on the floor like that for some time, enveloped in each others’ arms. Fred stroked her hair and hummed contentedly against her neck. Hermione tilted her head, nudging him away from her neck so that his lips could find hers in a slow, lazy kiss.

Eventually, they summoned wands, cleaned up, and redressed so that James didn’t ask more questions than she already knew he would when he found them the next morning. When she was snuggled under an oversized quilt and tucked up against Fred on the couch, he lazily draped an arm over her stomach and she laced her fingers with his, 

“Good thing I tested this couch out first and made sure it was big enough for both of us,” he said with a yawn.

Hermione’s mind went blank. She felt like she knew what he was talking about but couldn’t recall the specific memory. After a few frustrating moments, Hermione gave up and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“When we went to IKEA. Remember the angry sales clerk that almost kicked us out?”

Right, IKEA. Fred, jumping from one couch to another. “Of course. How could I forget about that?” She leaned her head back and he brought his down for a kiss.

“How’s your foot?”

“A little sore. Why are you so worried about it?”

“Because I love you, Granger,” he laughed and blew a raspberry against her neck.

“I love you, too, Weasley.” Hermione closed her eyes and smiled when he kissed the spot he had just raspberried. As she fell asleep, she wondered why her foot was hurting and how Fred knew about it…

* * *

“Hungy, ‘Mione!”

Hermione groaned and pulled the quilt over her head. When she heard a low rumble of laughter behind her, she yelped and quickly sat up. Looking to the side, she saw Fred looking up at her, his brows knit in concern, and the events of the previous night flooded into her brain. With relief, she smiled and looked back to where Albus and James were standing.

Albus reached out and grabbed Hermione’s arm, repeating, “Hungy, ‘Mione!” James, on the other hand, shot looks of skepticism between her and Fred. “Why is Uncle Freddy out here with you?” James finally asked.

“We had some things to talk about after you went to bed. It got to be late and Uncle Freddy stayed out here so he wouldn’t wake you two up,” Hermione explained.

“Did he fix you?” James asked.

“Fix her?” Fred asked, sitting up and looking confusedly at James.

“Yeah, ‘cause you broke her.”

“Broke up,” Hermione corrected.

“Ahh.” Fred swept her hair to the side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Actually, your brilliant Aunt ‘Mione fixed me.”

“Cool. Can we have waffles?” James asked, and Albus let out a cheer of, “Waffles!”

Hermione pushed herself off the couch and Fred went about folding up the quilt while she followed the boys to the kitchen. When she opened the cupboard, she stared blankly at the contents. What was she looking for again?

“Flour!” James pointed to the container on the middle shelf.

“Yup,” Hermione said, pulling out the flour and also the sugar. Wiping sweat from her forehead, she opened up the refrigerator and found herself faced with the same problem. What was she looking for?

“Milk,” a voice instructed.

Hermione looked down at the little boy beside her. What was his name again? Why couldn’t she place his face?

“Hermione?”

She looked up and saw...Fred? Yes, Fred was approaching her with a worried look on his face.

“I need the bathroom,” she whispered, slipping past him and shutting herself in the bathroom.

Why was it suddenly so hot? She turned on the cold tap and splashed water over her face. When she stood up and looked around, she didn’t recognize anything around her. Where was she? Whose bathroom was this? Where was she?!

Letting out a panicked cry, Hermione screamed, “Help!” as she slid down the wall and hugged her knees to her chest. Pounding on the door made her yelp.

“Unlock the door, Hermione!” a voice yelled from the other side.

Frightened and unable to move, Hermione let out another feeble, “Help!”

“Stand back, James,” the voice called. Several seconds later the wood of the door cracked and a red-haired man rushed in. “Hermione, what’s wrong?”

“Who are you?” Hermione whimpered, hugging her legs tighter.

The man didn’t answer. He laid a hand on her forehead and said, “Shit! You’re burning up.” He went to lift her up but Hermione scrambled away. “Love, I promise, you know me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know you?” she whispered.

“Yes, and I only want to help you. I need to get you to the hospital.” He held out his hand. “Please, Hermione.” Swallowing hard, Hermione held out her hand and the red-haired man helped her to her feet. He lifted her into his arms and said, “Stay with me, love.”

“I’ll stay with you,” she breathed as all the energy drained from her body and the world went black.


	6. Quarantine Day ???

Hermione woke to bright sunlight and cool air on her skin. She glanced around and saw she was standing outside the shop, in the middle of the cobblestone street. A light, misting rain was falling, bringing a shine to the surrounding buildings.

How did she get outside? Was the lockdown finally lifted? She tried to think back to the last thing she remembered...waffles. She was supposed to be making James and Albus waffles! So why was she outside? And where was that music coming from?

_It's been seven hours and fifteen days  
_ _Since you took your love away  
_ _I go out every night and sleep all day  
_ _Since you took your love away_

Humming along to the tune, Hermione turned to go back to the shop. Fred was standing there and she wanted to run for him but couldn’t seem to move her legs. He smiled and slowly made his way to her. Saying nothing, he took her into his arms and started dancing with her.

_Since you been gone I can do whatever I want  
_ _I can see whomever I choose  
_ _I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant  
_ _But nothing  
_ _I said nothing can take away these blues  
_ _'Cause nothing compares  
_ _Nothing compares to you_

“It’s been a while since we danced to this song,” Hermione said, resting her head on his shoulder. It felt unusually soft against her cheek.

“Hermione,” Fred called.

“I’m right here, Fred. You don’t have to yell.”

“Hermione,” he called again but his voice sounded further away this time.

Pulling back, Hermione blinked and her surroundings went blurry. “Fred, what’s happening.”

“Come on, Hermione. Come back to me, love.”

“I’m right here!” Hermione tried to call back but her mouth was suddenly dry and her voice came out raspy. Blinking again, she found herself in what appeared to be a blindingly white void and panic set in. “Fred?”

“I’m right here,” Fred replied, his voice softer and closer.

“Fred?” It hurt to speak but she needed to know where he had gone. “I can’t see you.”

“Shh, give it a few seconds,” he soothed.

Rapidly blinking, Hermione desperately tried to banish the bright light and bring something, anything, into focus. Slowly, the brightness started to dim and a face swam into view, surrounded by pale blue walls. She was lying on her back. Another two blinks and the features were clearer. A pale, drawn face, half-hidden beneath shaggy red hair. Lips were pressed into a thin smile, with brown eyes shining with tears that had left wet tracks on sunken cheeks. 

Mouth like sandpaper, Hermione was able to rasp out, “Fred?”

Fred let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and let his head drop. She was about to ask what was going on but then the sound of a door banging open diverted her attention to the front of the room she was in. Fred stepped aside as a healer, in bright green robes, and a medi-witch, in a clean white smock, started waving their wands over her. She caught sight of Harry Potter stepping in and moving to stand beside Fred. 

“How do you feel, Miss Granger?” the healer asked as he checked her temperature.

“Confused,” Hermione answered.

“Heart rate is normal,” the medi-witch announced. 

“Excellent. Open your mouth, please, Miss Granger,” the healer instructed. Hermione did as he asked and with extra effort, was able to stick out her tongue. “Excellent,” he said again. “The pustules never got to your mouth so your croaky voice is just from a month of disuse.”

“A month?!” Hermione tried to sit up but yelped in pain, making Fred and Harry jump. It felt like every nerve in her body was screaming at her. The healer eased her back down onto the bed.

“What hurts?” the healer gently asked.

Hermione moaned, “Everything.”

“To be expected.”

“What is going on?” Hermione asked.

“Cerebrumous Spattergroit,” the healer said, making notes on a chart that hung beside her bed. “I’ll let these fine gentlemen fill you in on what you’ve missed. In the meantime, all your vitals look good. Gloria here will be back shortly with a pain potion and some dreamless sleep potion.” The medi-witch waved and left the room. The healer conjured a cup, filled it with water, and said his good-byes.

When the door clicked shut, Fred and Harry were instantly by her side.

“I’ve been asleep for a month?”

“You’ve been in a coma for a month, darling,” Fred corrected. He held up the cup of water and helped Hermione take a few clumsy sips.

With her mouth feeling more normal, she asked, “What happened? The last thing I remember was the boys wanted waffles. Oh my god! The boys? I didn’t give this to them, did I?” Her eyes darted to Harry and then back to Fred’s haggard-looking form. “Oh my god, I gave it to you!”

“The boys are fine, Hermione,” Harry reassured, giving her hand a light squeeze. “James and Albus are at home with Ginny. No one else was infected.”

“We did have to have an extra two weeks of quarantine here at the hospital but we were able to avoid infection,” Fred said.

“It was not a fun extra two weeks,” Harry said with a wary side-eye at Fred. 

“Tell me you would have been any less crazy had it been Ginny?” Fred challenged.

“Fair point,” Harry conceded. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to go tell Ginny the good news so she can start spreading it to the rest of the family.”

Once Harry was gone, Hermione finally noticed music playing softly. It was the end of the song she had heard in her dreamy state. “Where’s the music coming from?”

“Oh.” Fred glanced at the corner and Hermione followed his gaze to the record player set amongst potion bottles. “I had to fight with the medi-witches to let me bring it in once they let me out of quarantine.”

“Why?”

“Why did I bring it in or why did I fight?”

“Both,” Hermione said with a coughing laugh.

“The answer to both is because I was afraid that when you woke up you wouldn’t remember me. Us…” he trailed off with a soft, choked up sob. He sniffled and continued, “I played all our songs, hoping it would keep me in your memories.”

Tears pricked at her eyes and she placed a hand over his. “It’s impossible to forget you, Fred Weasley. Believe me, I tried it once.”

At that moment, the medi-witch bustled back into the room. She placed a bottle of purple Dreamless Sleep potion on the side table and handed Fred the bottle of yellow pain relief potion, saying, “I’ll let you help her with this, dear. And, I know you’re delighted to have her awake, but make sure she takes that Dreamless Sleep. Her body still needs plenty of rest.”

“Because a month isn’t enough,” Hermione muttered.

“Oi, Gloria here is a saint,” Fred scolded with a smile. “She helped bring you back to me and we will do as she says.”

“Hold onto this one,” Gloria said, giving Fred a smile and lightly patting Hermione’s leg before leaving the room again.

Fred uncorked the pain potion and Hermione started to lift her head, but he placed a hand on her shoulder. He flicked his wand and the head of the bed elevated her halfway to a sitting position. “Open your mouth, love.”

The potion worked almost instantly. Hermione’s body was able to relax and she let out a sigh of relief. Through gritted teeth, she raised her arms and reached out for Fred.

“What are you doing, you daffy woman?” He bent down to help support her arms.

“You said we have to do as Gloria says.” Hermione threw her arms around Fred’s neck and pulled him close. “So I’m holding onto you.”

His hands came to gently rest on her sides. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that again,” he mumbled against her hair. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” she said, running her fingers through the long locks of hair that had started to curl at his neck. “And not just because my legs are completely useless at the moment.” She looked up at him and frowned. His features were so drawn and there were dark, heavy bags under his eyes. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fred, you look like hell.”

He placed a soft kiss on her lips. “You’re awake and you know who I am. I promise, I’m more than fine.”

She rested her forehead against his and gave her head a slow shake. “I know that’s a load of crap, but I’ll argue with you about it when I have more energy.”

Fred pulled over a chair and he filled her in on what had happened since she collapsed in his bathroom. Apparently her fever spiked high and fast, sending her into shock. To stop her body from working against her, the healers had put her into an induced coma. They left her in that state until there were no new pustules forming, which took about two weeks. Luckily they were able to stop the spread before they breached her chest area.

“I want to see,” Hermione insisted.

“I think it’d be best to wait. You just woke up.”

“Fred, if you don’t help me, you know I’ll do it myself.”

“Hermione--”

“Fred, please.”

With a resigned sigh, Fred pulled the blankets down and pulled up the hem of her hospital gown to reveal her pockmarked legs.

Hermione grimaced at the fading, purple spots. “Do you know if the marks are permanent?” she asked.

“Some of the nastier ones that burst on your back may scar but the healers have been covering the marks with a paste that’s supposed to abate most of the scarring.”

“They’re hideous.” Hermione frowned and Fred pulled her gown back in place. “I hope I don’t have to stay here too much longer.”

“Mmm, it’ll be nice when we’re finally able to get you home,” Fred said, tucking the blanket around her waist.

“Fred?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you move in with me?”

“Of course. I’ll stay with you as long as you need.”

Hermione took his hands in hers. “And if I tell you I need you to stay forever?”

Fred grinned and let go of her right hand so he could reach into his pocket. “I will if you agree to wear this,” he said, slipping a silver ring, with a gleaming ruby in the center, onto her finger. “Oh, and agree to marry me.” 

Hermione’s gaze flitted from Fred to the ring, and then back again. “When--what--are you sure? We’ve only just gotten back together.”

Fred laughed. “We’ve been back together for a month. It’s not my fault you slept through it.” Hermione tried to scowl but couldn’t help grinning. “I have never been more sure about anything in my life. I stupidly let you go once and then barely had you back before I thought I would lose you again. I’m not wasting any more time. You’re the one I want, always and forever. Marry me, Hermione. Please?”

She placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled him to her. “Yes.”

“I love you” Fred whispered against her lips.

“How much?”

“So fucking much,” he said and then finally kissed her properly.

After a minute, Hermione pulled away. “I have one more question.”

“What’s that?”

“Was my foot broken?”

“Seriously? After everything else that happened?”

“Fred?”

He sighed and shook his head. “No, your foot was not broken.”

“Told you so!” Hermione said victoriously, poking him in the chest.

“Alright, you’re getting a bit over-excited. I think it’s time for that Dreamless Sleep potion,” Fred said, turning to the bedside table.

“Five more minutes of kissing and then I’ll take that vile stuff without a fight,” Hermione said, grabbing his shirt.

“Deal,” he agreed, leaning back down and covering her lips with his once more.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**4 months later**

“Hello, Tilda,” Hermione called as she walked into SereniTea and set her bag on a shelf.

“Hey, Hermione!” Tilda greeted, kissing Hermione’s cheek. “You’re early today.”

“I decided to bunk off work early. I was caught up on all my reports so I thought it would be nice to surprise Fred for lunch.”

“I’m sure he loved that. Cuppa before the session starts?”

“Some green tea would be lovely, thanks.” Hermione sat down at one of the small dining tables and waited for Tilda to join her.

Many things had changed after Hermione was released from the hospital. She got home to find Fred had already moved all his things into her house, including the floral IKEA couch. She resigned herself to the fact that there was no escaping that piece of furniture. If asked, in a moment of complete honesty, she’d admit that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Their wedding was scheduled for the upcoming October. Her mother and Molly were in charge of planning. Hermione had told them the colors she liked and asked them to keep it small. She was certain they listened about her colors but was slightly worried about how grand their plans were becoming.

Regaining strength in her arms and legs was the biggest part of her recovery. One afternoon, while she was talking to Fred and George about it in the shop, Bendy Tilda had appeared at her side and offered to help with some free beginner yoga sessions. Not wanting to be rude, Hermione accepted the offer. It turned out to be the beginning of a lovely friendship and she quickly dropped the ‘bendy’ adjective.

Yoga was brutal in the beginning. Hermione could only do half of the positions properly and was left feeling frustrated and defeated by the sessions’ end. Tilda was surprisingly encouraging, though, urging Hermione to give her mind and body time. Ever the stubborn one, Hermione did just that and slowly but surely her strength and flexibility started to come back. Four months out and her healers had declared her fully healed, but she still kept up with the yoga sessions and was even able to talk Fred into attending a few with her. 

“That canvas bag is full of the Sweat Buster jars you ordered,” Hermione said as Tilda set two cups of tea on the table and slid into the chair across from her. 

“Wonderful. I’m down to my last one.”

Hermione had discovered a use for Fred’s liquidless rain cloud. After a particularly sweaty session, Hermione uncorked one and sat underneath the cloud until it disappeared. Through some trial and error, Fred and George figured out that adding Honeywater gave the raindrops a deodorizing effect and it worked so well that Tilda placed bulk orders for jars of Sweat Buster (a moniker in which Hermione had no part in creating) to use during her yoga classes. It wasn’t long after that the twins figured out how to create the clouds in various sizes and were able to make one single cloud that could cover half of Tilda’s shop.

The two women chatted for a few more minutes while they sipped their tea and a few other people trickled into the shop for the next session. When their cups ran empty, Tilda excused herself to go assist with opening stretches. 

“I’ll be right there. I’m going to grab my water and an elastic,” Hermione said, heading for the shelf with her bags. As she secured her curls up in a messy bun, the bell above the door dinged. Hermione turned to see Fred striding over to her in running shorts and a sleeveless top, with a towel flung over his shoulder. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Fred leaned down for a quick kiss before answering, “You surprised me for lunch. I thought I would surprise you for yoga.”

“That’s so sweet. You do remember I stepped up from beginner to intermediate, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Can’t be that much harder can it?” Hermione arched an eyebrow and he shrugged. “Worse comes to worst, I fake it ‘til I make it, right?”

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “I love you.”

Fred grinned. “How much?”


End file.
